


make me feel (something)

by Graysworks



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, angsty cracky and slightly fluffy, idk man, ish, tim gets a haircut with a side of feelings, touch starved... ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 00:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13064976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graysworks/pseuds/Graysworks
Summary: Long time no jaytimOr; Tim's hair meets an unfortunate fate during a bust, and Jason offers to fix it for him. Good-intentioned bickering and meaningful gazes ensue.





	make me feel (something)

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with the jaytimmmm
> 
> help me god I gotta stop writing
> 
> Title from Feel Something by Jaymes Young--->
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5gQtyobFLg

“Well?” Jason asked, after they’d freed a warehouse of kids and notified the police about the traffickers- at least, the ones he’d left alive, before Tim came across the scene. “Justified or not?”

Tim sighed and ran a hand over the patch of hair that had been cut. A lucky swipe of a pocketknife had sheared it off, and he was _more_ than frustrated by the chance shot; not out of vanity, not really. Braving the press would be hell enough.

He glanced back at Jason and finally answered, rather wearily, “You already know my answer.”

Jason snorted and crossed his arms over the handlebars of his parked bike, peering down the alley he’d stashed it in. “Right.” His eyes went back to where Tim’s fingers were, even as they dropped away. “You know how to fix that?”

“I’ll… think of something,” He muttered, starting to pull up the cowl again.

“Lemme see,” Jason motioned him over, one arm stretching out. “Ah, it’s not that bad. Though I can’t really see you rocking the one-shaved-side thing.” His gloved fingertips danced around Tim’s ear toward the uneven cut, and he fought down a shiver- there must’ve been a gust of cold wind through the alley. Winter was still raging in all its freezing, numbing glory, after all.

Jason’s expression was contemplative as he offered, “I can give you a hand, if you want.”

“Yeah, not sure I trust you with my hair,” Tim answered, batting his hand away, even through a small smirk.

“You’d rather have Alfred do it?” Jason raised his eyebrows in punctuation.

“I think he knows how to _trim hair_ , Jason,” Tim retorted.

“Yeah, _Bruce’s_. Maybe the brat’s, too, but it’s not exactly his specialty.”

He had a point there.

Tim ran his fingers over the shorn chunk again and winced a little in the face of the returning wind, howling with renewed vigor. It wasn’t like he had reason to suspect that Jason was _bad_ at cutting hair- he had to keep his _own_ tame somehow, he supposed. If all else failed, the barber near Gotham U was always an option.

“Okay,” Tim sighed, finally moving to get on the back of the bike.

  
  


“Stop fidgeting, Jesus.”

“Sorry,” Tim fought to stand still, not for the first time since they’d started. Jason was doing a simple undercut, all the way around his head and trimming the longer parts on top. There wasn’t much else they could do, anyway.

It was a little nerve-wracking. Not because Jason had clippers to his head, which- well, yeah, that was part of it. But, his free hand had stayed on Tim the whole time, turning his face one way and then the other, or just lingering on his neck, brushing away stray hair.

He couldn’t exactly make sense of it.

Tim wasn’t touch averse, as far as he could tell- maybe to criminals and creeps, as anyone would be. It wasn’t like he and Jason had never put hands on each other, either, and not just out of violence. They got each other out of tight spots fairly regularly; they’d been locked in closets, tied together, forced to carry the other to safety. It was a give-and-take relationship, he supposed.

But this seemed… different, somehow. Unless he was overtired and overanalyzing- both likely, with the typical stresses of the job.

“You okay?” Jason asked, cutting into his thoughts after a while. “You’re awfully quiet.”

He nearly jumped, thrown a bit off guard by the call back to reality. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” He _did_ jump when the buzzer cut off, and Jason’s fingers raked over the space behind one of his ears. “What are you-?”

“I still think I should do some lines,” Jason traced a horizontal path with his nail. Tim suppressed a shiver, half in wariness and half out of instinct- and regretted this decision just a little bit more.

“No thanks. The undercut alone will be-”

“-Across every paper in Gotham tomorrow?” Jason finished, grinning at Tim’s reflection in the mirror. His face seemed much too close, suddenly. “Yeah, I don’t envy you. Still, if you’re gonna go this far anyway…”

“ _No,”_ Tim repeated, more firmly- though highly exasperated. “Would you just get to the rest?”

“Alright, alright!” Jason raised his hands in surrender, before moving them back to Tim’s hair, mussing the top a little. “I think you’re gonna owe me after this, by the way.”

“That’s also a no,” Tim rolled his eyes as Jason picked up the scissors and started to trim. “We’re even, after I had to resuscitate your sorry ass last week.” And- god. He really needed to work on his tact.

Jason didn’t seem to mind though, as he chuckled, “Yeah, guess so.”

They spent the next fifteen or so minutes in silence, again.

Tim remained fairly relaxed even though no more conversation was attempted- it was quiet. He could do quiet. It gave him time to think, close his eyes and will away some of the week’s tension… even if it _was_ only Tuesday. It was five o’clock somewhere, and he settled on that as his reason for retreating.

The brush of fingertips over his scalp wasn’t entirely unwelcome, anyway. As far as company went, Jason was certainly the most helpful. Or, maybe just efficient.

It wasn’t long before Jason pulled the towel from around his shoulders. “See? Not bad, huh?” He fluffed up the front a little and Tim raised a hand to feel, disconcerted briefly by the scratchy buzz above his neck.

“It’s definitely… _lighter_ ,” He admitted, running his fingers through the shorter top. “I think it’ll take a while to get used to it, though.”

Jason rolled his eyes and grabbed a broom, shooing Tim out of the way so he could start sweeping the bathroom. “At least the mullet is gone.”

“Right, I just have a couple of vile human traffickers to thank for that,” He shot back sarcastically, backing up to let him get at the small mess at their feet.

“You’re forgetting the guy that actually _cut_ your hair, Drake,” Jason returned, making short work of the floor; it was a tiny bathroom, and Tim pitied Jason’s living conditions for all of two-point-five seconds, before remembering that he hopped houses every couple of weeks.

Jason was grinning as he clutched his chest and drawled, “I’m hurt.” And Tim shouldn’t have been surprised at the melodramatic finish.

“I’m sure.” He crossed his arms and shifted more weight onto his left hip, unable to stop a smirk. This he could do- the back and forth, easy banter. It was preferable to having Jason’s fingers in his hair, where nobody (friendly) had touched him in- god knew how long.

“Really though,” Jason shucked the fallen strands into the trash bin, shaking his head in amusement. “You like it?”

He glanced at the mirror again and grinned, almost disbelieving when he answered honestly, “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Thanks, Jason.”

Upon looking up, something had shifted in Jason’s smile, like he was less entertained and more-

Tim squashed the thought. God, he needed sleep.

“You know, you’re-” Jason paused, or rather, cut himself off with a shake of his head, turning to lean the broom against the wall again.

“What?” Tim asked, curious. It wasn’t often that Jason didn’t speak his mind.

“I dunno, just- you’re weird, I guess.” His eyes flitted back to his, this time a little more contemplative. Darker?

Again, Tim didn’t mean to entertain the thought, but- “Yeah? How so?”

Jason’s lips twitched like he was on the verge of an answer, and deciding to discard it instead of give it life; at least, Tim assumed. He didn’t provide it much more contemplation before Jason was setting the broom down and approaching him again- this time with a distinctively bitter twist to his features.

“Hey, I get it,” He offered quietly, and Tim blinked.

“Get what?”

The fingers pressing to the side of his head were sudden but- gentle.

“Come on, kid,” Jason said. “You were shaking half the time I had hands on you, and it sure as hell wasn’t from the _cold_.”

He barely managed to recover from that one, and even then, it took a half-snort and averted eyes. He wasn’t… _starved_ for contact, however convinced Jason seemed to be.

A snarky voice in the back of his head told him that was _exactly_ what it was. He pushed it aside.

“You’re doing it again,” Jason told him, and his smile was bordering on pity.

Tim dragged his gaze back to the older man’s eyes, convinced then that he wasn’t walking out of this one without files full of blackmail hanging over his head, because Jason may have been sympathetic- but he wasn’t a saint. He barely even qualified as a _hero_ , and that was in _Gotham._

Another set of fingers trailed up his jaw, as Jason’s lashes lowered- and _why_ did Tim decide that looking at his eyes was better-?

“For someone so obviously skilled in denial, you’re pretty tense,” He observed, gaze seeming to pierce straight through the silent dialogue.

Tim wasn’t one to give up without a bit of attitude, so he lifted his chin in an attempt to save at least _some_ dignity. It helped that the challenge in his voice was real when he asked, “You going to do something about it?”

There was a split second where Jason’s smile was tilting between satisfaction and surprise, but it was lost as quickly as it had come, when his grip on Tim’s hair tightened to tilt his head back just enough- enough to press lips hot to his neck and just as damn insistent.

He dragged them down and mouthed at his throat a few times, backing Tim into the doorframe as he went, only surfacing when Tim’s breathing started to pick up, almost involuntarily.

“Oh yeah,” He said then, murmuring it against his mouth. “I can do something about it.”

**Author's Note:**

> me, writing the ending; goddammit- "and then they kissed, the end"
> 
> https://hazelnatcoffee.tumblr.com/
> 
> Come yell at me! Sheith is the object of my obsession these days, but I'm always in need of some good j/t shit too lol


End file.
